


Forever Sentinel

by ainamclane



Series: Little Black Dress RT Challenge [8]
Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sentinels and Guides Are Known, Gen, Sentinel/Guide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-17 00:27:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4645587
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ainamclane/pseuds/ainamclane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry ponders about the past Guides in his life and the present</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forever Sentinel

Henry took his hands out of the body in front of him, wrinkling his nose in disgust due to the contents of their dead man’s stomach. And that smell was telltale because not much smelled like Fugu.

Withdrawing his hands from the body, he looked up: “Lucas, this man was either killed or the sushi chef does not have a license to make Fugu.”

“That is why Detective Martinez is here.” Lucas replied with a pen pointing into direction of the doors behind Henry’s back. And Henry frowned because he really should have listened more closely to his surroundings, not being drawn to attention by the smell of the Tetrodotoxin.

He focused on her then, her heartbeat, her smell and mental stability. Not that he got much of a sense of here, being rather low on mental abilities. He knew being a Sentinel was easier nowadays than it had been when he first came online.

Not having a good infrastructure, Henry had been forced to choose a Guide that wasn’t completely suitable to his needs. Nora had stabilized him just barely but he hadn’t found his match anywhere around him.

Then, coming back alive and dying again before making his way to Nora, he couldn’t tolerate her anymore. It was like an itch he couldn’t scratch that made being with her worse.

A mental institute was horrible on his senses. The smells, the sounds the harsh cold…it was such a relief to die and come back again.

Searching for his perfect match finally led him to Germany where he was working hard to make sure no more Guides and Sentinels that suddenly got feared by the public along the Jewish were harmed. It was his main focus to take care of all people.

Suddenly, he became aware of a Guide, a wailing baby close to the Guide and the Guide being slightly worried about the baby. His senses focused on her before he could do anything else and he just knew that she was his Guide. The one perfect match.

“Henry?” he was brought back from his memories by Jo: “What can you tell me about Mr Reynolds?”

“He was of average health, height and weight. He didn’t smoke, didn’t drink if so only rarely and has no obvious signs of harm. He was poisoned by Tetrodotoxin, commonly known in the Fugu fish served in exclusive Japanese sushi restaurants.”

“He died because of a bad meal?” Hanson asked surprised and Henry cursed himself again that he hadn’t noticed Hanson walking up to them. It was a sign he needed to calm down a bit and get his senses stabilized. He had hoped after having Adam restrained it would go away, all that spiking of his senses.

“It would appear so, detective,” Henry agreed: “There are quite a few restaurants here in New York that have the license to work with putterfish.”

“I’ll print out a local business map,” Lucas said easily.

It didn’t take them long to head to the restaurants and Jo looked at Henry: “Can you smell whether they used Fugu here or not?”

“Usually, small traces might be left in the air but sadly it is near undetectable. The fish on the other hand, quite smelly,” Henry explained and entered with Jo the next restaurant. 

“Would have been too easy,” Jo sighed and continued her work in flashing the picture around while Henry inspected the establishment for traces of their victim.

Suddenly, he became aware that he had been here with Abigail, more than once when it still used to be an Italian restaurant. He remembered the wallpapers, the smells, the sounds from the cars outside, the texture of the table cloth underneath his finger tips. It had been amazing being there with his Guide.

Drawn back into the past, Henry sighed. It had hurt losing his connection with Abigail. She was his Guide and some day she didn’t come home, wanting to spare him the pain of losing her. He had felt her around the city until one day he hadn’t. He knew she must have died but Abe had been so hopeful to find her alive still that he hadn’t wanted to tell him that he already knew she was dead.

Having Abe come online as a Guide had been a gift then. Of course Henry would never consider Abe as fully bonded to him because he was Abe’s father and unlike with Abigail, he wasn’t interested in taking his son to bed. That was just plain wrong so Abe had gone to training for his Guide gifts in hope to find his real Sentinel somewhere out there while being a substitute Guide for Henry until he found another Abigail-level Guide that fit him perfectly.

Henry wasn’t stupid enough to hope for a perfect match right now. He had had to wait for Abigail nearly a hundred years but the good thing of living forever was having the time to wait and be content with substitute Guides that were family. Like Abe.

Sadly, Abe hadn’t had found his Sentinel and Henry doubted he would in the remaining lifespan his son still had. Being seventy years old was a good age, Abe having lived his whole live with being married while still close to Henry to help him, Henry was happy his son had been happy. Was still content in being around him.

“Henry?” Jo’s voice asked carefully and Henry yet again realized he had dwelled in the past.

“Excuse me, Detective, I find I’m not too stable with my senses today,” he explained: “And I keep remembering the past.”

“Which hundred years ago are you thinking of?” she smiled with curious eyes, having taken it pretty good that he was immortal.

“About my being as a Sentinel, actually, and how long it took me to find a perfect Guide. Abe is a very good match to me, but I keep thinking he would have loved having his own Sentinel around.”

“What makes you think there was a Sentinel for him out there? Couldn’t he have been a Sentinel simply because you needed one after losing Abigail?” Jo asked carefully: “Maybe Abe is perfect for you, just not as is Abigail. And maybe he’s already showing a distance in being close for when he will leave you?”

“That is wonderful reasoning, Detective,” Henry agreed: “It seems there is something to it.”

With that, Jo informed him about this place not being their location and heading to the next. Henry once again tried to find out with his senses if this was the place but it was Jo’s old school research that made her find the credit card bills with which the friend of their victim had paid.

Going to the friend’s place, Henry knew guilty when he saw it. The man was jittery, his heartbeat jumped with every lie and he smelled guilty somehow. He nodded at Jo to indicated yet another lie, looking around the room: “Ah, this is exactly the reason I was looking for.”

“What is it Henry?”

“This painting here. Worth about two millions. It did belong to our victim’s family history, given the smell I can detect that is from being in the living room of your vic’s apartment where he used lavender and a pure unique smell to their family.”

“What does this painting have to do here?” Jo asked their perp: “Did you steal it?”

“No!” the man called out: “It’s my pay for being with him.”

Henry frowned and only listened halfheartedly to the explanations while Jo booked him, reading his Miranda rights before calling it in and taking the painting to evidence.

Finally able to go home, Henry took a steadying breath in front of their shop before entering. He always loved coming home to Abe, the Guide being his family after all and making him more stable.

“Pops?” Abe asked him from inside, clearly having registered him being there and feeling his emotional state: “Are you okay?”

Really considering Abe’s question, weighting all options and considering Jo’s words about maybe Abe being happy with him and not needing his own Sentinel, Henry found it in him to breath out, step into their shop and answer honestly: “I’m good, Abe. Now, how was your day?”

Abe didn’t waste a breath, already falling into a tale about the people that had come into the shop today. Henry would hold onto Abe as long as he could and maybe, one day, his loss wouldn’t cripple him completely as it did with Abigail. 

~Fin


End file.
